


we'll shine on the world

by kyjr



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:37:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1617905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyjr/pseuds/kyjr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They get together every year on their anniversary, all six of them. No matter what, no matter where. All of them, together, because they're family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we'll shine on the world

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 10th Anniversary, KAT-TUN. Thank you for everything.

It's raining. They don't know why it's always raining when they get together like this, but it is. It's pounding down, beating upon the windows of Ueda’s apartment in a steady pattern, echoing through the place in cold waves. The rain sounds like a thousand horses thundering over the rooftops in an endless stream until the crack of stallion-thunder roars through the sky, breaking the night into pieces of light with the lightning that partners it. It's dark out, and the moon cuts through the rain to glow against the uneven asphalt of the road, hauntingly beautiful as it shines in the night. There's something about the silence of rain though, something about the way it drowns out everything else.

Nakamaru’s shoes are in the genkan, the first to arrive; they all know Kame won't be far behind. The smell of spaghetti sauce fills the place with warmth, the promise of food making braving the cold so much more worth it.

The television is on in the lounge room, flickering a coloured glow onto the opposite wall; Nakamaru has muted it in order to concentrate on cooking. Though there is a little bit of music floating through the apartment, a soft rock that keeps their spirits up and drives away the gloominess that rain seems to bring with it. Ueda's in the kitchen with Nakamaru, seated upon the kitchen counter and swinging his legs as he watches Nakamaru cook.

Kame announces his arrival with a swift one two three knock on the door and Ueda rises to answer it; his smile is happily tired as he trudges through into the genkan and toes his shoes off. Kame's voice has that hoarse tone to it as he greets both he and Nakamaru - Nakamaru answers from the kitchen, busy with his cooking - and Ueda waves him in. His hair is damp from the rain outside and he's a little breathless but he's shining in that Kamenashi way; his eyes are clear and bright and he's happy to be there, Ueda knows.

"He's cooking?" Kame asks, and Ueda nods, runs a hand through his own hair. It's a little longer than he wants it to be but he's too lazy to have it cut, even though Nakamaru keeps telling him to. "Spaghetti and meatballs again?"

"Is there anything else?"

Kame laughs and heads into the kitchen, lightly swinging a grey plastic bag that Ueda hadn't noticed before; fifteen minutes later Ueda's apartment is full of the beautiful scent of Kame's mother's infamous curry and their stomachs are rumbling just from that. But they can't eat until the others are here, so Ueda brings out the cheese platter that Nakamaru had reminded him by text to buy earlier that day (because Ueda always forgets) and they snack on that; Nakamaru wrinkles his nose at the sharp taste of the cheese but Ueda ignores him.

They bring out the wine just as Koki arrives, walking through the door as if he owns the place, and the apartment is quickly filled with life, with sound, with joy, because those are the things Koki always brings with him - well that, and hugs. He's got his arms around Ueda's body before he even realises he's here, smiling into his shoulder as Koki grabs for Kame's arm to pull him into a hug next. Koki's hair is pulled into a tight ponytail tonight, tied by a string of leather, but it's barely contained and flits about his face messily; he's got three new piercings since the last time they've seen him and they glint in the lights overhead as he smiles and moves about, laughing as he towels the rain off the back of his neck.

"Raining cats and dogs out there," he says, and Nakamaru rolls his eyes from where he's stirring his sauce.

"No shit," is his response; Koki elbows him and steals the spoon from him to taste the sauce.

"As good as always," he sighs happily, and Nakamaru grins before thanking him.

"Did you bring--"

"I brought it," Koki interrupts, hauling a large red pot into the kitchen. He always uses the large red pot. It crashes onto the counter and Koki beams through the noise as he always does, uncovering the lid and allowing the steam to escape on the crumbed chicken he's so famous for.

"Put it in the oven so they don't get cold."

"Come on, girls," Koki murmurs, whistling as he does as Nakamaru says. Nakamaru rolls his eyes again.

"Stop talking to them, it's weird!"

"It's love!" Koki argues.

The soft rock has changed to an old American classic, crooning male vocals and sharp twangs of guitar strings filling the apartment when Taguchi walks through the door. He flaps his umbrella out in the hall as he greets everyone, leaving the water on the carpet out there for the cleaners to deal with instead. "Sorry I'm late!" he says, shaking his hair free of the rain. "Traffic's a nightmare out there."

"It's all good; Akanishi's not here yet," Kame says, a glass of wine in his hand as he leans against the kitchen table. The smell coming from the kitchen is indescribably gorgeous, a mixture of meats and sauces that twirl through each other beautifully. "You're not late unless he beats you."

Taguchi laughs, a loud bark of laughter that catches in his throat. "Well he _is_ travelling from--"

"About five streets away," Ueda interrupts, carrying plates into the living room, where the television is still on mute. He sets the plates on the floor in a semi-circle around the television in true Ueda style - haphazardly. The plates are all different styles and colours, blues and reds and patterns and solids, as mismatched and odd as they are themselves as people.

"And _don't_ just throw the plates down!" Nakamaru calls from the kitchen, and Ueda looks over at Taguchi who is watching him with a small smile on his face.

"I didn't!" he yells back. "Don't say anything," he hisses as he passes Taguchi; Taguchi just laughs and claps a hand on Ueda's back. "Where's your food, by the way? Just because you're late--"

"Don't worry, don't worry, I brought it," he says lightly as they make their way back to the kitchen. His dish is on the table, a platter of sushi bought from a new place that had just opened up; when Kame opens it, the freshness practically spills out of the platter, the comforting smells of sushi mixing with the rest of the cooking food.

"Lazy ass," Koki mutters, crossing his arms as Kame transfers the sushi onto smaller plates so they can move it easier into the lounge room, "You never actually _cook_ anything."

Taguchi just smiles brightly and helps Kame, ignoring Koki's comments as he takes a small sip of wine. Wine in Taguchi's hand always looks so elegant, Ueda thinks. That's when Akanishi arrives in a flurry of rain and hair and plastic bags crinkling; his umbrella is inside-out and his clothes are drenched but his eyes are bright and he's happy, even with his coat falling off his shoulders and trying to trip him.

"Now the party can start!" Taguchi whoops, raising his glass of wine into the air before taking a longer drink. Akanishi flashes Taguchi a grin - one of those loose, happy grins that seem quite rare nowadays - and thanks Ueda and Nakamaru gratefully as they rush to rid him of the five bags in his hands.

"Sorry I'm late," he gasps, running a hand through his rain-soaked hair, "Theia's got a stomach bug and she's throwing up everywhere - you should've seen the state of the kitchen--"

"Always a pleasure, Akanishi," Kame sighs as he walks past, sushi platters in-hand.

"--and Meisa didn't want me to leave her alone with-- hey, Kamenashi-- with her, so we went to the clinic and they gave us some medicine cause y'know, she's got a tiny little stomach, all sensitive and that--"

"Just like her father," Koki says, rather fondly.

"--and it knocked her out so now she's sleeping and Meisa's sleeping beside her so I snuck out," Akanishi finishes, taking a deep breath.

"Nice," Nakamaru comments, setting the bags upon the kitchen counter. Akanishi and Ueda follow, and Akanishi starts unloading the bags of tupperware containers of all different sizes, placing them carefully to the side.

It's nice, seeing Akanishi again. Ueda hasn't seen him since this time last year, when his hair was shorter and he had stubble growing on his upper lip, but not much has changed. He was late then, too. Ueda doesn't say any of this, because he's not that kind of a person, and so just settles for a hand on Akanishi's shoulder; the other gives him a surprised look before softening it into an easy-going grin.

"Yeah," is all he says, and Ueda knows he gets it. Akanishi has always understood him well. Nakamaru understands him the most but Akanishi understands him the best. That's how it works.

"Meisa cooked?" Kame asks, walking back into the kitchen to pour himself another glass of wine. Koki's fetched one of Ueda's towels for Akanishi, and he throws it over Akanishi's head as he passes.

"Yeah," he says, ruffling his hair with the towel. "Burritos for all," he announces, and Taguchi whoops again. "You bought your food again, didn't you?"

"Sure did," Taguchi answers with a proud grin, "Didn't want to disappoint you bitches." Akanishi laughs, pure and loud, tipping his head back and letting his hair fall down his back in damp curls. Kame smiles softly.

"So loud," Kame complains, shaking his head, and Akanishi just grins over at him instead.

"You missed it," he says, with that flash of uncertainty in his voice he gets whenever he mentions anything like that, but Kame just rolls his eyes.

"Guess I just got used to it, or something," is his answer, and Akanishi beams.

A few minutes later they're carrying plates and bowls and pots, all full to the brim with delicious food, into the lounge room, setting them on the carpeted floor in front of the television, which is still throwing sadly quiet images out into the room. Koki's the first one to collapse to the ground with a grunt, stretching his arms over his head as he settles.

Nakamaru's spaghetti looks as delicious as always, a generous amount of rich red sauce heaped onto the top of more meatballs than they'll be able to eat. There are two baskets of bread rolls that Kame had remembered to bring, still steaming from the light baking Koki had given them earlier, with butter and a knife lying to the side. Koki's red pot sits in the middle, pride of place as usual, his crumbed chicken still looking as delectable as they were when he had walked in; Akanishi's burrito's lie in deconstructed pieces about the place, waiting to be built with shaky, slightly drunken hands. Kame's mother's curry looks as it always has, thick and chunky with a deep brown sauce; there's a heaped bowl of fluffy rice lying next to it with a large serving spoon stuck in the centre. Even Taguchi's store-bought sushi looks good, tiny pieces of fish and rice and seaweed all wrapped up tight.

To them, Ueda is still their leader. He doesn't cook, but instead holds these meetings at his place, where he can look after them and make sure they don't get into too much trouble. Also because they don't trust him to cook anything anymore, but Ueda likes to think it's because of the leader title.

Ueda's left knee is pressed into Nakamaru's thigh, the other just grazing past Kame's own. Akanishi's next to Kame, rolling a burrito that threatens to fall apart, and Taguchi's next to him; Koki's on the other side of Nakamaru. It's a rather messy affair, really, but it's stupid and fun and so they continue it every year to remind themselves that this is how they started so many years before, crowded around a tiny television in Nakamaru's bedroom and eating from bowls of cup ramen on the floor.

Kame is the one to un-mute the television, finally allowing it to speak once more - it's some game show, with pink and blue and green backgrounds that clash with what the presenters are wearing. Koki starts piling his plate with some of Nakamaru's spaghetti, one eye on the show as he does so. Ueda doesn't care about spills on his carpet - hell, there are about twenty there already - so they don't worry too much.

"So, eight years huh?" Akanishi says, shaking his head a little in disbelief before biting into his burrito. "Shit, my wife can cook," he adds with a satisfied sigh.

"Eight long years," Nakamaru nods, gasping around a mouthful of hot curry. "And we managed to not kill each other."

"Though it was a close one," Kame adds, sliding his eyes over to Koki, who ducks his head and busies himself with twirling spaghetti around his fork. "I could've done without a few of those bumps in the road."

"Sorry," Akanishi and Koki mumble around their food, flicking sheepish gazes in Kame's direction. Kame says nothing, but rolls his eyes and continues picking delicately at his sushi.

Ueda says nothing, content to just sit back and listen. They exchange stories from the years that have passed, happy to bask in the memories of their mistakes, of their success, of their sadness. Kame's mother's curry is hot and just the right mixture of sweet and spicy and it's enough to warm him right down to his toes, and suddenly he feels like he's eighteen again. Bleached blonde and blue-eyed; the boy with the awkward smile. He's back in the Kamenashi dining room, where the others are seated around a long polished wood table; the rest of Kame's family - his three brothers and his father - are sitting on mismatched chairs in too-small spaces on the table because there just isn't enough room for everyone. Kame's brothers are picking on each other and Koki has a patch over his eye because he'd gotten into a fight earlier that day; Ueda's eyes are red and irritated from his contacts that don't fit right and Nakamaru's almost falling asleep where he sits. But Kame's mother walks in with her greying hair swept up into a flyaway bun and a red checkered apron around her waist, carrying a large pot of her curry, and nothing else matters, because her curry is the _best_. It makes everything else just drift away.

"It's eight years debuted," Taguchi says then, and Ueda's back in his own living room. Taguchi has decided to play with his food instead of eat it, and has made a face out of sushi and spaghetti on an unrolled burrito. "But it feels like I've known you guys forever."

They nod as one; none of them can remember a time without the others in their lives. Nakamaru chuckles softly at Ueda's side and he nudges him, sending him a questioning glance as he continues eating. "I don't know what you'd do without us," he answers honestly, looking down at Ueda, who pulls a face.

"I could manage perfectly fine--"

"When was the last time you did your _own_ washing?" Koki asks, happily unravelling a piece of sushi and popping the seaweed into his mouth. His bandmates are not very polite eaters; this is why they never meet in a restaurant for these meetings.

"Point."

The thing is, Ueda doesn't want to imagine a life without them. They're annoying, and loud, and rude, and stubborn, but so is Ueda. They're not the best of friends but they somehow know everything about him, and he knows everything about them. Well, not everything, but the important things - how Taguchi can't spend too much time on his feet or his knee will start to ache, a pain from years ago; how Jin always needs reminding about his contacts or else he'll fall asleep with them on; how Kame still hates tomatoes and will protest at the presence of them in any sort of food (except spaghetti sauce); how Nakamaru can't sleep without a light on. How Koki's eyes tighten around the edges when he's tired. Ueda doesn't care about who has what friends or what they do on their days off, but he cares about things like this. Important things.

He looks around at them, at the five other men who have stayed by his side throughout his life, and smiles. This is home; this is family.

"Remember that time we dared Nakamaru to steal Takki's pizza?" Koki laughs, rice shooting out of his mouth. Nakamaru sighs.

"Yeah, but he was too chicken shit to actually go through with it," Akanishi taunts, placing a piece of sushi atop a spoonful of curry.

"What _are_ you doing?" Kame asks, raising an eyebrow, and Akanishi just shrugs.

"Trying something new."

"So Ueda stole it instead," Taguchi laughs, and Koki's eyes widen.

"Oh, that's right!" he says loudly - to be fair, everything Koki does is done loudly - and points his fork in Ueda's direction. "Then you blamed it on Nishikido."

"Happiest day of my life," Ueda murmurs, remembering Nishikido's utterly confused face as Takki had lectured him about taking responsibility for his actions. "Pizza _and_ sweet revenge."

"You're a bad person," Nakamaru says, but Ueda just laughs, knowing he means nothing of what he says. He takes a bite of Koki's crumbed chicken pieces and groans at the taste; there's just something about it that makes him think of warmth and honey and golden-coloured dogs sitting by blackened fireplaces.

"Jin's on TV," Taguchi says then, and they all look up to the screen to where Akanishi's face is staring back at them from behind dark sunglasses, the flashes of cameras going off in the background as a news reporter speaks over the top of him.

Akanishi blanches. "What have I done now?"

"It was probably the fact that you snuck out of your apartment while your sick child and your wife slept," Koki says casually, slurping up his spaghetti with an insane amount of noise and managing to flick some sauce onto his nose. Taguchi sighs and wipes it off with a napkin. "Thanks."

"Never mind Uepi; what would _you_ do without us?" Taguchi laughs softly, and Koki turns red before he pushes Taguchi sideways and steals his burrito-face. "Fernandez!" Taguchi cries, as Koki proceeds to eat him.

"To answer your question, Jin," Nakamaru says over the top of them, "It seems as though you've got a concert DVD coming out, or something."

Jin's face relaxes into something of relief, a small smile on his lips. "Ah, yeah, that's right." He nods and stuffs a piece of sushi into his mouth. "Almost forgot."

Ueda notices that Kame has been awfully quiet, and nudges him in the side. He starts, and looks at him slightly bewildered. "You okay?" Ueda asks, and Kame smiles tiredly.

"Sure," is all he says for a while, content to nibble at the ends of the toasted pieces of bread. There are crumbs all over his lap. "Missed this," he adds eventually, his voice but a whisper, and Ueda just nods.

"Yeah."

The night continues on in this fashion, swapping old stories and remembering things almost forgotten, like wisps of fog at the edges of their minds. They aren't drunk, not that much anyway, but they do end up singing at one point - a Kinki Kids song, not even one of their own, though it does segue into one of Akanishi's with splendid English lyrics supplied by Taguchi that has Akanishi gasping on the floor with laughter. "Don't ever change, Junno," he says, bright and happy, voice raw from laughing, and Taguchi's smile has never been so pure.

It's almost midnight when they begin to get tired, their stomachs full and their bodies warm. They're watching reruns of old game shows, muttering the answers before the contestants guess them - Akanishi gets frustrated when the contestants don't let the presenter finish his question - and that's when Kame starts to yawn and rub at his eyes. He shrugs off Nakamaru's concerned glance but Ueda knows that once Kame yawns that's it, so he gathers up the empty plates he can reach and takes them to the kitchen with Taguchi's help. Akanishi and Koki are too invested into the game show and won't allow Nakamaru to help, because Nakamaru is their lifeline.

They pick on him because he doesn't normally clean but he puts up with it; all they get in retaliation is the odd roll of the eyes or a small punch to a shoulder. Under any other circumstances Ueda would force them to help but today it's different. Now he's got Taguchi, with his endless supply of smiles that he's dialed down to late-night sleepy mode; he's quiet and diligent and he doesn't make a fuss, even when Ueda makes him wash the dishes. He just throws him a happily tired smile and rolls his sleeves up.

"And this is why I buy my food," is all he says. Ueda punches him. "Ow-- Go pick on someone your own size!"

Kame's curled up against Ueda's beanbag chair, head in his hands as he watches the television with hooded eyes when Ueda checks on them next. Nakamaru works his way out of Koki's drunken grasp when the other goes for Taguchi's unfinished beer and continues to help clean; he pats Ueda's shoulder as he passes with Koki's red pot in his other hand. "Kame's almost out," he murmurs quietly, and Ueda laughs because it's so obvious. Even Koki and Akanishi have quietened down, trying to let Kame have his two minutes of rest before the entertainment world whisks him away once more, but Kame is stubborn and his eyes refuse to shut.

"Change the channel," Kame demands huskily, and Koki complies; they end up watching infomercials with people selling their wares in big voices and large gestures. "Yay." Kame's always liked late-night shopping.

"Kazuya, get some sleep," Ueda hears Akanishi murmur in a concerned voice as he leaves for the linen cupboard. He only ever uses Kame's first name these days if he's truly worried about something and Kame knows it.

"I will, I will," comes Kame's reply. "Don't worry so much, Jin." And there's the comeback; Ueda can practically see Akanishi giving in with a sigh.

Ueda collects the blankets from the linen cupboard and some pillows from the spare room. They smell like mothballs and he used to apologise for it, but Koki would always smile widely and say that it smelled like home, so he doesn't apologise anymore. They're nothing fancy, just some old cushions his mother had bought him when he had moved in, in the hopes that he would actually try to decorate the place. He dumps them in the middle of the living room floor and steps on Koki's foot when he passes - not on purpose, of course, never on purpose, why ever would you think that, Koki?

Taguchi's finished in the kitchen and Nakamaru's fetched the rest of the pillows he knows are lying about the place. It's like a nest, really, what they make next, with a mess of pillows and sheets and blankets, and there are six full grown men lying about his living room floor and there's barely enough room so they're sort of squashed together. Akanishi's head is at Taguchi's feet and one of Nakamaru's elbows is pressing into Ueda's side and Kame's feet are against the wall and Koki's limbs are everywhere over everyone, because that's just what Koki does.

They're quiet.

Tokyo rushes around them, trains and cars and people continuing on through the night in a bustle of noise. The rain continues on pouring and Ueda turns his head to watch the raindrops edge their way down the window, a feeling of contentment making its way through his body as Nakamaru elbows him again. Akanishi mutters something under his breath whenever Koki moves; Kame is walking his feet up the wall. Taguchi sneezes. Akanishi hits him.

"Thanks," Ueda says then, and the silence evaporates into one of curiosity.

"Hmm?" Taguchi hums, his feet now in Akanishi's face.

"For what?" Koki asks, gently poking his shin.

Ueda never answers, just lets his word echo in the night. They take it and let it sit with them, feeling different versions of the same emotion, letting it stir beneath their skin and lift their lips into barely-there smiles.

Tomorrow he has to be in Shibuya for a photoshoot and then to central Tokyo for interviews. He knows Kame has to be on the ten o'clock shinkansen bound for Osaka in order to film _Going!_ and then for some photoshoots with the baseball players; Akanishi has a studio recording session that he said could take all day and he's not exactly looking forward to it. Koki's got a meeting with some higher-ups with his new recording company and then a photoshoot in Roppongi, and Taguchi has drama filming from nine in the morning until three and then some promotional filming for the drama afterwards. Tomorrow the real world will call for them.

The room is still bright, but he won't turn the light off until he recognises the way Nakamaru's breathing evens out in slumber. Ueda closes his eyes and lets images of them wash over him, the images he's burnt into his mind over the years. All those times nervously sitting in live interviews, feeling Taguchi's tall strength beside him; those times on stage when the lights were bright and the fans were many and the music was loud and the microphone terrifyingly heavy in his hand but knowing Nakamaru was there, Nakamaru had his back. Those times when he'd hurt himself and Koki would be right there in a moment, murmuring hushed words and taking his mind off the pain until help could arrive; Akanishi's beaming smile across the stage as they sang song after song after song and they were dripping with sweat and exhausted. And though he and Kame had fought so much they had managed to form some kind of strange bond that stood strong after so many years, even though they weren't the best of friends.

He remembers six long-limbed teenagers with big dreams and loudly coloured opinions, standing crowded in Johnny's office and being told they were a new group. He remembers hope and happiness, but also anger; the other boys hadn't taken to the idea. They were snappy and temperamental, quick to anger - Akanishi and Koki especially. Ueda liked to rile Kame up just to see his face crumple and turn red. They were difficult and uncoordinated and impossible to get along with, and they never, ever thought they would be friends. Never thought they would feel this bond.

It's a bond that goes beyond friendship - it's not friendship, really, because they barely hang out with each other outside of work. And it's not a work friendship either, because Ueda doesn't feel _obliged_ to like them. It's different, what he feels for them. Stronger, in a sense. Family.

"I don't hate you guys anymore," Ueda says eventually, awkwardly, when the shifting of bodies beneath blankets have stopped. Someone coughs. Ueda thinks it might be Koki.

He can't tell them he loves them. He will eventually, years down the road, when he's forty seven and his hair is brown again and he has lines on his face from laughing too much. But not now, because it's embarrassing and he doesn't talk about his feelings and he knows they get that, and they're an awkward kind of group anyway. Ueda guesses that's why he loves them so much.

"We don't hate you either," Nakamaru mumbles, half asleep. There's a murmur of agreement from Kame's corner.

"I kind of like you guys," Akanishi says softly from the other end of the room, and Ueda smiles into the night.

It's a good night.

It always is, with them.

 

\--the end.  



End file.
